Tales of the Mumbai Coven
I love it when things happen completely out of the blue. About a week ago, I got a delightful request for an interview from a writer at the Mumbai Boss e-zine. An English language online journal based out of Mumbai, India. I’m not sure how she found my stories, but I’m so glad she...
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The Mumbai Coven traces its bloodline back to an ancient source. Born of unimaginable atrocity, its descendants carry the imperatives that were forged on the field of a great battle, before recorded history. This is a work in progress. The stories are not sequential, but serial. The work can be read by chapter, or...
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London, 1859 The house in Red Lion Square was suitable. It was far enough from the river to have a basement that didn’t flood at high tide, and was close enough to the impoverished East End of London to provide Calum McNeill with what he required. The house’s landlord, a petty Earl, had eagerly...
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After the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places The shouting and the crying Prison and place and reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little...
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And did those feet in ancient time Walk upon England’s mountain green? And was the holy Lamb of God On England’s pleasant pastures seen? And did the countenance divine Shine forth upon our clouded hills? And was Jerusalem builded here Among those dark satanic mills? Jerusalem, by William Blake, 1808 Jalapur Dai, 1857 He...
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Mumbai, Present Day As the twitching ebbed away, I grinned at Stefan. “You okay?” He had a puzzled look on his face. “I’m still hard.” “I know that.” And I did. I was still sitting on his cock. “And…” Stefan looked over his shoulder at Daniel. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. Daniel eased his arm...
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Toledo, 1578 It was bitter cold in the great hall. The woman standing before the panel of calificadores shivered constantly, dressed as she was in nothing but a plain linen shift and a woolen shawl, which she clutched to her chest convulsively. As Fray Daniel rose from his seat, he was aware that even...
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Someone once speculated that Jack the Ripper was a vampire. Well, of course he was. His horrific acts of violence were exactly what might have been expected from an untutored and abandoned newling. And would it surprise you to know that, in life, he had been a deeply religious man, a traditionalist, a fatalist?...
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“Have you fed?” Daniel spoke without looking at me. He was lying exactly where I’d left him a month ago, on the white and blue striped lounge in front of the open veranda. The dusty mauve Mumbai skyline was streaked with peach wisps. The sun, hidden below the horizon tickled the undersides of a...
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Argyle, Scotland, 1832 “Nay! Na-ay! I’ll niver gang wi’ ye!” The small boy, swaddled with blankets, cried out into the darkness. After each word, he took a loud, wheezing breath. The fire had gone out in the hearth but the room was still hazy with peat smoke. “Mam…Mam! Dinna let her get me, Mam!”...
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